“Seven?” I repeated, somewhat unsettled. “Well, at first glance I would have sworn you were a couple of years younger.”
“It’s because I’m short for my age. But my dad says that when I’m older I’ll have a good growth spurt and I’ll be as tall as him.”
He spoke with so much pride. That time, I smiled out of pure tenderness, because his little eyes lit up in a very beautiful way and his voice became more cheerful when he spoke of his father in such good terms. It felt good to think that I was making a change in the boy, that he was no longer trembling from fear or cold, and was not hungry. He was not sad, nor crying. A small part of me swelled with satisfaction at seeing him so happy, because I was doing something right.
It still surprised me how easy it was to talk to him.
What remained
